


Serious Boy

by Ossicle



Series: Selkie Skin [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Backstory, Blood Magic, Canonical Character Death, Childhood, Dark Fantasy, Incest, M/M, Selkies, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ossicle/pseuds/Ossicle
Summary: Law is a selkie, Kidd is no one. They find in each other a way to endure the brutality of their lives, and eventually, a way to return to the sea.Part 2: Backstory time. Law grew up in a loving, supportive murder cult.





	1. Law's sixth winter

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of my selkie KidLaw fic! I really recommend going back and starting there if you haven't already, or this wont make sense. Law's backstory will have a lot of focus on setting, worldbuilding, and politics in the family and among different warring factions. Kidd's backstory (to be posted separately) will be more character development and internal stuff. It's a dark fantasy setting in a fictionalized northeastern North America (the actual New World!), where shapeshifters have humanlike societies that rarely interact with each other or with humans, magic is a semi-common thing, and colonization still sucks.
> 
> WARNINGS: Graphic violence throughout, occasional goriness. Rape tag for non-explicit sexual assault, and underage tag for teen Law dealing with predatory adult. Death tag for major character death (canon), not Kidd or Law. Added an incest tag for the Doffy/Cora relationship, as, yeah, they're still brothers in this AU, and there'll be some explicit scenes with them. I'll post specific warnings with each chapter but they'll contain spoilers. Let me know if there's something I've overlooked and should tag.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Selkie Law is taken under wing; gets a family and a fish
> 
> Chapter warnings: Not much... Reference to disease and death, children grieving.

 

Law doesn't remember much of his life before coming to the Keep and the Donquixote Family. It's like he was something else before, something that stayed outside when he was carried in from the wind and sleet and delivered into waiting arms.

It was the selkie’s sixth winter.

_“Mi corazón.”_

_“Mi alma.”_

There was an exchange of murmured greetings and a flutter of feathers above him. Law looked up at two matching faces—two men like towering stone statues with pale complexions, gold hair, and grey-white feathered Skins.

The man holding Law seemed worried about something. “So was this one given up or did you steal him?”

The man who'd brought Law from his faraway house was wearing a gloating smirk. “Don't ask that. This is where he belongs either way.”

Law remembers that he wasn't afraid, just confused and hungry. The comforting smell of tobacco hung around the man holding him, and he didn't seem as scary as the other one. Though his look of concern was shading toward anger now.

_“ Amado—”_

_“Corazón._ Roci. It's already done. He's ours.”

“Cora… sir?” Law interrupted, tugging on the patterned shirt.

The anger dissolved instantly. “What did you call me?”

“Cora, sir, is there some fish?”

“Oh my god. Oh. My. God that's so cute oh my god oh my—"

The other man’s gloating face had broken into a wide grin. “Well, he's named you. He's yours now.”

Cora was clearly trying not to cry. “Yes, there's fish! There's all the fish you want, little one!”

“I’m _not_ a little one. I'm Law.”

Cora made a weird sobbing squeak sound and crushed Law to his chest.

Law wasn't sure what to make of this, but he was still hungry. This was all starting to irritate him.

“I want to get down now,” he informed Cora.

“You can't yet, I have to hug you more.”

“Yes I _can._ I'm going to get some fish.” He started sliding under Cora's arm and down his side.

“Mind of his own, I see,” mused the gloating man. He blocked Law’s path.

Law stopped in his tracks, gazing way, way, way up at him nervously. “Um.”

“You're scaring him, _amor,”_ Cora chided.

“Fear is instructive.”

“Oh for chrissake.” Cora crouched down so he was at Law’s height. “Law, this is Doffy.”

“Doffee?” Law echoed.

Doffy tsked. “He should call me by my proper title: _Donquixote.”_

Law looked at Cora, who nodded in encouragement. He tried this word out. “Donkey-o…”

“No. Listen. Don-qui- _xo-te.”_

“Don-key- _ho._ Don-key-ho-day.”

Cora was clutching his sides and laughing. A vein throbbed in Doffy's forehead. Law didn't think it was amusing either—he was trying really hard.   

“It’s not funny," he glared at Cora. "Why are you laughing like a… like a _stupid?”_  

“You're such a serious boy, aren't you,” Cora smiled back, wiping away tears.

_“No.”_

Doffy sighed. “Ugh. Well he's all yours. I have—”

“You have boring shit to attend to, yesyes.” Cora waved him away. "Thank you for the baby."

Doffy departed with a laugh, stopping briefly to angle Cora’s face toward him and press a deep kiss to his lips. "Our baby," he murmured, and Cora beamed.

He left.

Law released a tense breath... Doffy's presence was so overwhelming. Cora, though he was almost as tall, had none of that imposing gravity in his bearing. He was sitting cross-legged by Law with his chin in one hand, still smiling.

“You want fish, little one?”

_“Law.”_

“Heh. You want fish, little Law?”

Law nodded, miffed at the 'little’ part.

Cora took his hand and brought him down through endless passages to another part of the keep. Law had never set foot in a place like this. It was like an endless cave, a warren full of strange voices laughing or murmuring gruffly just out of sight. It was late evening and they went along without a light, Law almost slipping a couple times on the sea-slimed stone, but always caught by Cora's steady hand.

“Um. Cora, sir?” Law asked after a while.

“How about just ‘Cora.’”

“Cora…” He snuck a look at the man: tall, pale, and… very beautiful. They were both beautiful, if men could be called that. Law had never seen anyone like them. “Are you a selkie?”

“Doffy and I are albatrosses.”

“Okay. Is Doffy your mate?”

“Yes.”

"Okay." Law thought about this.

Cora watched him with gentle amusement. “Do you have another question, Law?”

“Yeah. Um. Is there alive fish or just dried?”

Cora seemed to find this as charming as the name Law had given him. “There's… oh my god... Whatever you want. Anything you want, little one.”

 

* * *

 

There turned out to be an entire tide pool full of fish on the leeward side of the rocky island. The half-ruined stone keep loomed above them as Law splashed around after tiny darting fish. When he'd gotten tired of chasing them, he accepted the big one Cora offered.

“Law, I have a question for you too.”

“Ohhnkay,” he said with his mouth full.

“It's just. Because. Well, sometimes, with gifted children like you, people are afraid of what they'll become. They don't understand the things that happen around them, and they… do bad stuff to them. So your parents, were they... good? To you?” Cora watched Law as he asked this, almost nervously.

“Yeah, I think they're so good at fishing. They always give me nice fish and nice stories."

“Okay, good, yeah. But did they, uh. Did they want you to come here?”

Looking back, Law could never remember what was in his head when he replied. Couldn’t even remember his parents’ faces or the exact nature of their deaths at all. He just remembers telling Cora about it. “I don't know. They stopped getting up or saying stories after the, after the, the monster stuff got to their faces. And then Lammy too.”

“Holy _shit.”_ Cora shook his head with a hand over his mouth. 

“Yeah. So I don't think that they know I came here.”

“Who's Lammy?”

Law stopped eating. Swallowing was suddenly hard. “My little sister...”

He felt something drip onto his lap. He put a hand to his face and was amazed to find it wet.

“I think I miss Lammy a little bit,” he said quietly.

This seemed to send Cora into overdrive. “Law! Little one, it's okay, it's okay…”

“I _know_ it's okay,” Law said impatiently as he was clamped to Cora's chest again. “Don't squish me, you're making the tears come out.”

“Sorry!”

Cora kept hugging him, though. And the tears kept coming, stinging Law's face.

He swallowed. “Cora? If Lammy gets better can she come here too?”

“Oh, little heart... Um. Lammy’s not going to get better. Do you understand?”

Law was just starting to understand.

He wasn't hungry anymore. His hands felt weak. He let himself be hugged too tight and tried not to think about anything.

 

* * *

 

The feeling was sadness, Law decided after some thought.

He was still all weak and his chest tight from it as Cora carried him back up the stairs and into a tower in the keep. He would have insisted on walking himself but he was just really tired.

There were two other kids in the tower room, both asleep in their own little bundle of blankets on piles of straw. Neither of them smelled like selkie.

He looked around nervously as Cora reassured him, “Law, we're your family now, okay? You're safe.”

“Okay.”

“This is your brother and sister. You'll meet them in the morning.”

“How old are they?”

“Both five.”

Law nodded. “So I'm older than them. I'm the oldest.”

Cora chuckled. “Guess so. That’s Buffalo, and that's Sweet Tiny Baby Honeydew Melon. Be nice to her, she's… a little delicate. She just arrived a month ago.”

“Is that her real name?” It was a stupid name, if so.

“Well… okay, no, I'm the only one who calls her that. Just call her Baby.”

After Cora had tucked him in and left, Law wriggled out of his blankets and climbed up on the wide window ledge to evaluate things. He was so, so high up it made him dizzy, but he had to see.

It was a small island mostly covered by a big stone fortification. Probably built then abandoned by humans, long ago. There was an inner keep with four towers (three still standing), and a courtyard in the middle. Then an inner wall around the keep and its outbuildings, then an outer wall that went around the whole island. A cloister, chapel, and what he would later discover to be catacombs were on the far side of the island. It was in a state of thriving ruin. Whole areas were falling in, trees spilling from windows and lichen coating its seaward stones.

It was terrifying.

Nothing like the little earth lodge where his family slept all in one room. All warm and tightly packed under thick red blankets, far far to the north. They were still there, together in their little lodge, and he wanted to be there too, but… but they had stopped being warm weeks ago now. Stopped talking to him or eating the little fish he brought them. They just lay in there as everything became colder and colder. He’d kept himself and Lammy fed well enough, but eventually she didn’t get up either.

The monster stuff was on them.

He tried to think of Lammy’s face but all he came up with was blank whiteness. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest was rising again. He thought he might throw up.

There was a snuffling noise behind him. He turned and saw a dim shape huddled in the darkness, looking at him.

It squeaked, “You're not supposed to be in here! Go away!”

“Yes I _am,”_ countered Law. “Don't tell me what to do, I'm older than you.”

He didn't say it all mean or anything, but the dark shape flinched. “S-sorry!”

He stared, trying to make out its features. He jumped down from the ledge and went closer.

It moved back. “Sorry…” it mumbled.

Law crouched down and found a miserable little girl hugging her knees and trying to disappear into the floor. She didn't look anything like Doffy and Cora, as Law had expected. She actually looked like Law. Like _Lammy..._ with tan skin and fine black hair. But Lammy would never have looked as sad and neglected as this. The girl had almost all of her nice hair hacked off, and eyes that couldn't even look up. It was hard to see her looking like that… Law wished she would stop. He shuffled up a little closer on his knees.

“Um. Hi. I’m Law. And you're Baby,” he started, with what he hoped was reassuring authority. “I'm six and you're five.”

She didn't say anything, but she didn't react like he'd kicked her, either, so that was good. He tried again.

“Doffy brought me here because my family, um. I think my family is dead.” He was only really realizing this as he said it. They were dead… he swallowed until the lump in his throat went down. “Are your parents… Where are your parents?”

“Um. My mom…” Her eyelashes were suddenly wet with tears. “My mom doesn't like me because I’m cursed and I do bad things and she, she… left… m-me...”

She was crying openly now, and it made something cold and urgent twist in Law's chest. If Lammy woke up and Law wasn't there anymore, would she be as sad as this? Would she think that he'd abandoned her?

But, no… Lammy wasn't going to wake up ever again. Law was the one who'd been left alone.

"She said I should die," Baby burst out. Tears and snot shone on her face in the dark tower room.

Law hesitated, then shuffled up and gave her a stiff hug. Like Cora had done with him. Baby flinched and froze, but didn't push him away.

“It's okay,” he told her firmly, and after a moment she relaxed, though she didn't stop crying. “You're my little sister and it's okay now.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mi corazón (my heart), mi alma (my soul), amado (beloved), amor (love). Just Spanish lovey talk. ‘Corazón’ always struck me as an awkward title for Doffy to give Roci unless they were lovers. Really really sappy ones.


	2. Law's lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Law learns to develop or suppress certain of his innate abilities, to fit Donquixote's principles. Meanwhile, in the distant deep, some great catastrophic event sends out ripples that begin to subtly destabilize the Family.

 

_ \--Law is seven-- _

 

“Law. What  _ exactly _ are you doing.” 

Buffalo cringed. Law looked way, way up guiltily. He wasn't sure why he should feel guilty except that Doffy's tone said he should be.

“Um… if I do this it helps him feel better?” Law showed his father Buffalo's hand, all raw where the clumsy boy had caught himself after falling. Ragged skin was hanging around the scrape, and Law was just helping it stick again and stop hurting. Buffalo didn't seem able to do it himself but Law had gotten almost half of it back on for his little brother.

Doffy examined the half-healed hand with distaste, and then pulled Law to his feet by the arm.

“You’ll do no more of that. Understand?”

Law looked up at his father, and then down. He frowned at his feet.

Doffy tightened his grip, though his voice was almost gentle. “You are  _ not _ helping him by taking away the hurt. If he doesn't learn to withstand pain then he'll become weak. You don't want to cheat him of his strength, do you?”

Law looked up again, suddenly worried. He didn't really understand, but it sounded like he was actually doing something bad to Buffalo.

“No?” he tried answering.

“No… no of course not. Buffalo—” the hulking boy jumped to his feet “—go down to the choke cherry trees. We'll begin today’s training as soon as Vergo arrives. Go.”

Buffalo hurried away and Law turned to go too, but a firm hand kept him back.

“You are not a healer.” 

Law stayed quiet.

“You are the opposite. And you'll not waste a single scrap of your potential on such parasitic, perverse practices.”

“Sorry.”

The albatross’ grip eased off of Law's arm and he almost fell over. Doffy took him by the hand instead.

“Good. Let's go train, little one.”

Law had to almost run along next to the giant man just to keep pace, but he didn't complain. Doffy was holding his hand, and he'd said Law was good. So everything was okay.

 

* * *

 

Training that day just held more confusing directives.

“Law, you can't win a fight if you don't hit your opponent properly,” Doffy examined his nails with disinterest.

Buffalo towered head and shoulders above Law but was somehow still shrinking away. He was bruised to hell already, and still hadn't landed a point even though Law had been giving him more and more openings.

“No more arm strikes, Law, show me a finishing blow.”

Law hesitated with his short staff lowered. 

Vergo, standing over the boys with crossed arms, scoffed and turned him around by the shoulders to face Buffalo again.

“Wider stance, both hands on your weapon, straighten up,” he ordered.

“Can't we just say I win?” Law protested, but quietly. He squared up. 

A kick from Vergo, and Buffalo squared up too. He took a breath, gripped his staff, and ran at Law with a weird battle shriek. Law whacked him in the shin. It wasn't that hard a strike but Buffalo fell on his face.

Doffy made an impatient sound in his nose. Vergo swatted Law, but was distracted by the pair next to them.

Bellamy had been taunting a crying Baby, jabbing her with his staff and calling her names. Baby was almost shaking with tearful rage, swinging wildly at her tormentor but too upset to even hold her staff right. 

“That's not fighting, Bellamy, you coward!” Law shouted at him. Vergo blocked him from going to help, so Law could only seethe at the scene.

After toying with Baby some more, Bellamy landed a stinging strike on her hand and she dropped the staff. Instead of picking it up, she clutched her uneven hair and let out a ringing shriek.

Bellamy's staff exploded in flames. He screamed and threw it away. Doffy cracked a grin.

“Baby! Enough!” Vergo commanded the screaming girl.

“I HATE YOU,” Baby screeched back. “I HATE YOU I HATE YOU—”

“You crazy freak!” Bellamy clutched his burnt hand and danced up and down in pain. “Your stupid mom shoulda drowned you when she—”

He didn't finish that thought because Law knocked him sideways with an echoing crack to the skull.

“LAW!” Vergo yanked him back by the shoulder.

“Vergo…” Doffy directed mildly, still standing by and watching with casual interest.

The restraining hand lifted from Law's shoulder and he lunged at Bellamy. The blond boy met Law's sweeping blow with a deft block and a sneer. His staff whistled by Law's ear—a very narrow miss. He was a decent fighter, and strong. Law still had him on the ground in under a minute. Bellamy went down but Law kept on attacking, Baby's screaming echoing in his ears and making him frantic. She seemed even more upset now, spiralling into one of her wordless sobbing rages. The grass singed and withered into ash around her. 

Bellamy desperately parried Law's blows from the ground, until Law caught him in the skull again. A crack echoed through the rocky field. Blood trailed from a deep gash in his forehead and he slumped, stunned but still sitting up. 

Law stopped, breathing hard and almost in tears himself.

_ “Good,” _ Doffy praised Law. “Again.”

Law sniffed and cracked the staff over Bellamy's shoulder with only a little hesitation.

“Again.”

Law looked up at Doffy, uncertain. This felt like a test but he didn't know what kind.

_ “Again, _ I said hit him again. Like before.”

“Like what before?”

“When you weren't thinking about it, just doing it… didn’t that feel good?”

“Um…”

“It did. Do it again and see.”

Bellamy was dazed, and Baby still in her senseless fit, but Buffalo seemed to have his wits intact. He backed away inch by inch, then turned and ran as fast as his tree stump legs would go. Law just stood there, frozen with anxiety as demands and admonitions clamored at him.

“Law, stop, it's not fair, I wasn't even fighting you!” Bellamy started shuffling back.

“Law, d-don't do it,” Baby started sobbing anew. “I'm sorry, don't do it, I'm sorry!”

_ “Law...” _ Doffy warned.

“Law!”

“LAW.”

“...Buffalo??” Vergo growled, looking around for the missing boy.

Law turned to appeal to his father. “Doffy I-I'm gonna make Cora mad.”

_ “Buffalo!  _ Get back here!”

“Doffy I’m your best son, I always listen!”

“Doffy my cry face hurts, I want Cora!”

“Doffy!”

“Doffyyy!!!” 

“...oh for God's sake... ROCI!” Their father finally lost patience with all this. He rose and dusted off his hands like their childishness might rub off on him. “ROCI, YOUR CHILDREN.”

“MY BABIES?!?” Cora popped up from a distant tower of the crumbling keep.

“YES. COME NOW! The rest of you: training is over for today.” Doffy turned away from them all, gesturing for Vergo to follow him. “Everyone go back to chewing sticks or whatever it is hatchlings do.”

They departed and a wave of wretched relief washed through the little shifter siblings. A moment later Cora flapped into their midst and gathered them up with wings that dwarfed them all. He shifted and spoke soothingly.

“Shh shh, Sweet Baby Girl, it's okay. Bellamy, let me see your head.”

Law stood apart, ashamed of himself. Bellamy's forehead was purple and oozing blood… Probably all cracked inside like a squashed turtle. Probably really bad. He was definitely gonna die and it was gonna be Law's fault.

“He hit me!” Bellamy whined.

“You were hitting Baby,” Law mumbled.

“He hit me too!” Buffalo emerged from the long grass to complain.

“That’s how training goes, yeah...” Cora examined Baby's bloodied knuckles and Bellamy's head. “That’s gonna leave a damn good scar, mon bel ami… okay, brave babies, looks like you'll all survive!”

Law knew they were forbidden to discuss training matters with anyone other than Doffy and Vergo. Especially Cora… But he hated this feeling. 

“Cora? I did something bad.”

Cora reassured him, “No, little one, you did so well! Doffy's just tired now. Okay? Training tomorrow. Swimming now!”

 

* * *

 

“Cora… did you ever kill anybody?”

Roci looked down at the tiny seal shifter. Law was sitting with his hands folded in his lap, a very grown-up look of concern on his face. Law was usually the first one in the water but today he was just sitting there, close by Roci while the others played in the waves.

“Many times,” Roci answered, taking a leisurely drag of his papelate.

Law looked confused. “But  _ you _ take care of people. You don't ever hurt them.”

“I take care of  _ family. _ And sometimes, to take care of people you love, you have to do hard things. You have to fight, and win, so your family can live,” Roci explained.

“Can't everybody just live?”

“That's not how things work.” 

Law absorbed this in silence.

Roci gave him a little shove. “Oh my god you're so stern! Training should be fun! Look—everyone’s okay. They're all happy and playing.”

“They were all hurt and crying before…” Law rubbed his eyes.

But they really were all okay now, splashing and squealing as the sea salt stung their wounds. Bellamy had a fish in each hand, and Baby was hitting him and demanding he give her one. Buffalo was trying to stick the skin back together on Bellamy's head, but just making it worse. All so innocent.

Law's worries kept tumbling out, “I hurt them and I'm the oldest and I'm supposed to take care of them and—”

“Ahhh little Law! You're too precious for this world!”

“Don't squish me,” Law complained as he was hauled into Roci's lap.

“You didn't hurt them bad, it's just training! You're just helping them get strong, okay?” Roci assured him.

Law looked unconvinced. The gravitas in that little face was just killing Roci… as though all the hurt in the world was his responsibility. The albatross sighed and tried a more serious tone.

“Law, listen. Sometimes, to love somebody, you gotta kick their ass. Okay?”

“Mf.”

“And if it's Bellamy, sometimes you gotta kick extra hard so he gets the point.”

That finally got a shy giggle. Law looked up at Roci like he wasn't sure he was allowed to laugh at that, and Roci just had to squish him again, until all the worry in his face was replaced with exasperation. Which was about as close to relaxed as Law's little emotional scale seemed to go.

 

* * *

 

Law stayed down at the water while Cora took the others up to the tower for a nap. He was hungry and still covered in dirt, and hadn't swum yet. And anyway, he didn't need a nap—he was the oldest. He paddled around, trying to practice shifting. His seal Skin had almost grown in all the way, though it was still attached at his back in a fuzzy fold. Not like the elegant garments that the adults wore around their shoulders or folded on an arm. Law couldn't quite make it cover him, and couldn't quite make it come away either. Like a loose tooth that just won't come out no matter how hard you wiggle it.

He gave up and swam in idle circles on his back, chewing on bony little fish and listening to the murmurings of the undersea. Sometimes it was like it was saying things to him. More often it wasn't words so much as a deep, great, ever-present rhythm. Like the heartbeat of the world. He closed his eyes and almost fell asleep like that, rocked in the waves.

Until something was suddenly  _ wrong. _

It was the sea—the sea was like fire, stinging him and roiling angrily. Law scrambled to find his footing in the suddenly turbulent water. He looked around him and started screaming his lungs out.

“aAAAAHHH!!”

Cora was there almost instantly. “What is it!??”

“It’s blood it's blood IT'S BLOOD!!” Law screamed.

“What? Show me where you're hurt. Stop kicking! Where's the blood? LAW!”

“EVERYTHING!”

“Law, there's no blood, you're okay!” Cora tried to calm him.

But there  _ was _ blood, everywhere, the whole sea was blood! Why couldn't Cora see it? He was wading right through it, carrying a kicking, frantic Law to shore. 

Doffy was there when they stepped onto rocky land. “What is he seeing,” he demanded of his mate.

Cora shook his head in confusion. “I don't know, he probably fell asleep in the water and had a nightmare.”

“NO! IT'S REAL, IT'S ALL BLOOD—”

_ “Law,” _ Doffy rumbled in a tone that instantly quieted the little selkie. Law was plucked out of Cora's arms and set on his feet. Doffy knelt and regarded him up close. “Tell me what you saw.”

“You think it's something to do with that… ‘that’ stuff?” Cora wondered.

Doffy stayed at Law's level, searching his expression and ignoring Cora.

“It's all b-blood,” Law repeated tearfully.

“From  _ what.” _

“The sea.”

“It can't just be ‘the sea’ bleeding, there has to be a source, some… some  _ thing. _ I heard it cry out. So what is it?”

“It's the whole ocean, it's all, a-all bleeding and screaming, and no one's helping, it's just dying alone...”

“Look HARDER. What else.”

Law chanced a terrified look sideways at the water. The vision persisted: an ocean bleeding and dying. Red churned up from the deep and waves surged thick and heavy with it. The storm building around them tossed their hair and stung their faces, but Law stayed frozen.

Cora pressed Doffy, “Mi amor, you know I'm blind to these things. Tell me what's happening.”

Doffy turned his gaze to the sea, searching it like he'd searched Law's face. 

“If he can see it, you can see it too, right?” Cora persisted.

Doffy turned back to Law with abrupt impatience. He sneered and rose.  _ “Obviously _ I'd be able to see it, if it really was anything. It's nothing.”

“I see…” Cora murmured.

“Law:” Doffy commanded.

Law looked away from the tortured sea and up, up at his father.

“It's nothing, child. Do you understand?”

“It’s hurt!” Law insisted.

“No. You're not seeing anything. This is the second time today you've tried to play on your family's sympathies for attention. Pretending to heal your brother, and now what? You'll heal the sea? I will tell you once more.” Doffy knelt again and took Law's hand. “The strong do not fear pain. Show me your palm.”

“Why.” Law resisted.

“Law, obey your father,” Cora directed, with a terse sigh.

“Your hand.”

Law showed his palm, and understood when Doffy unsheathed his knife that this was a test. The selkie held perfectly still, and made no sound when the knife pierced his skin and dragged. It was easy—this was nothing when the pain of an entire ocean was still fresh in his mind.

Doffy seemed satisfied. “Now, child: What did you see.”

Law looked back at the water. Stormy seas and… nothing. No blood. “Nothing…”

“That’s right. You saw nothing.”

Doffy left Law to consider his error, and went over to the arched passageway entrance where Cora was leaning with crossed arms. There was tense murmuring between the two adults, but Law was still absorbed by the water. His hand was dripping… he ventured to the edge of the crashing water and let the waves scrub the blood away. The barest little curl of red dissolved into the blackness… Gone. He watched the shallow cut on his palm close over like all his injuries did, and soon that too was gone without a trace.

He put the vision from his mind and never thought of it again. It was nothing after all—just a sudden storm, not unusual for the Black Coast. Already the squall was calming and the sky shading toward a normal color.

Law glanced over instead at the arch where the two towering albatross shifters were talking.

“...never too young. Matter of discipline...”

“...He just had a nightmare. He wasn't trying to lie about anything...”

They were all close and exchanging brushing touches, even while arguing. Cora put a weary hand to his temple and Doffy pulled it away and kissed it, murmuring something that made Cora roll his eyes. He kept up his quiet objections, but his other hand held Doffy's loosely, tracing over his palm with a thumb.

Law squeezed between them and tugged on Doffy's shirt. 

“What now,” Doffy stopped and looked down.

“He's jealous,” Cora sighed. “He wants you to pick him up.”

“I see.” Doffy relented. The two left off their argument and gave the selkie their attention, and everything was better. 

Law hung onto Doffy's neck and didn't push his luck any further. He'd messed up so much stuff today… but no one was mad at him, no one was really hurt, nothing was out of the ordinary. It was all okay.

 

* * *

 

Roci found Law down at the water’s edge more and more in the following days. Not in the water and playing like usual; just looking at it. He wouldn't worry, except that it might irritate Doffy if he knew the selkie was there, looking for things that Doffy couldn't see.

Roci didn't think to worry about other dangers until he came upon Law at the water again… reaching out to grab a big fish that was being held just out of his reach by a curling tentacle.

Law reached too far and toppled forward.

“NO!!” Roci scooped up the selkie and sliced at the tentacle with his knife.

The knife screeched and sent up sparks like he'd struck something metal. The tendril retreated underwater.

“You're in Donquixote territory, hag! What gives you the right to come here hunting MY children!”

“It was my grasp that he was snatched from first,” a deep feminine voice retorted. The water swirled and piercing blue eyes appeared, framed under streaming black hair. The Black Coast sea witch—not an enemy, but by no means a friend.

“Law, come on,” Roci ordered, taking Law by the shoulder.

“Right arm of Donquixote,” she called.

Roci kept his back turned. “You know the protocols, if you want a meeting arranged.” 

“A god has fallen in the deep.”

Roci paused.

“You must have sensed it.  _ He _ certainly did,” she indicated Law with a nod. “And I imagine your esteemed mate caught some dim echo of it, at least…” 

“Cora? Who died?” Law was making things difficult for him, tugging away and trying to look back at the witch. 

Roci should be getting them back inside, but he hesitated too. Something  _ had _ happened. “No one died, little one, she's just talking in riddles. They all do that…”

“Who does?”

“Witches.”

“It's a witch??”

The witch tutted. “Doesn't he know what  _ he _ is?”

“Cora! Who doesn't know what what is?? Cora—” 

“Law, INSIDE, NOW,” Roci barked, surprising himself.

Law gave him a wide-eyed look and didn't argue. He ran into the dark passage and Roci turned to face the witch fully.

“He’s nothing like you, parasite! Go find your prey in other cradles!” Roci spat.

“You mistake my intent.”

“Yeah I doubt that.”

She sighed and sank down in the water until only her face showed. “I erred in my approach. I only wanted to know how the event had appeared to the young one. There are so few with his sensitivity, and I have an interest in his welfare.”

“You wanna tell him something? I'll give him a message.”

“Hm, I think it's  _ you _ who should receive this message after all: A god has fallen, and his gifts dispersed to the currents. The race to find them is on. All the rules have changed.”

“The ‘touch my babies and DIE’ rule is still in effect,” Roci hissed. “Don’t think this mystic bullshit means we won't defend our borders.”

“Of course.” She regarded him coolly. “I’ll only add that I would have guarded the boy as you do now. And would still if the need arose...”

“Whatever. Leave.” 

She sank into the water and was gone. 

Roci went to grab Law and haul him up to the keep.

“Um!” Law startled as Roci easily spotted him hiding right inside the passageway. “I just wanted to see.”

Roci didn't reply. He marched along with Law firmly in hand.

“What did the witch lady say?”

“Nevermind her.” They'd reached the grassy surface, inside the outer walls. Safe. Roci’s head started pounding.

“I wanted to talk to her too. Can I go and—”

“Oh my GOD!  _ Law!!!” _ Roci punted the little selkie right into a fucking bush. 

Law climbed out and looked at him in shock. “You kicked me!”

“WHAT were you doing getting in the water with a witch!?”

“I wanted the big fish.”

Roci punted him right back in there and then started pacing in circles.

Law sat in the bush and thought for a minute. “...Is this like when you have to kick somebody in the ass because you love them?”

“Law,  _ do not _ take fish from strange black tentacles that emerge mysteriously from the water. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.” He crawled out and stood up.

“Jesus…” Roci massaged his temples.

“Why?”

Roci just about kicked him again, but sank down against the wall and dug in his shirt pocket for a smoke instead. He lit it and let the tobacco calm his screaming nerves. Law tentatively came and sat beside him.

“Do you know how witches become so powerful?” the albatross started.

“No?”

“They eat people.”

“Oh.”

“Babies especially. Babies with great potential especially especially.”

“I'm not a baby, though,” the selkie objected.

“Well she was still gonna eat ya. They claim to be able to heal people and do great shit, but they always  _ always _ do it by taking life from someone else.”

Law considered this. “Um. We shouldn't tell Doffy, I think,” he suggested hopefully. “He doesn't like that stuff.”

Roci laughed distractedly. No… no they shouldn't. Doffy would be livid. And Roci needed to think about the content of that message. He would have dismissed it as trickery if Law hadn't absolutely seen something in the sea the other day. Despite what Doffy wished to believe, it  _ had _ been something—a sea full of blood, and a monumental death.

_ A god has fallen… _

“Doffy has lots to think about already,” Roci decided. “We don't need to tell him about this.”

Law hugged him in relief, and Roci just had to pick him up and hold him tight. He didn't complain this time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's been like 6 months, but I'm still going on this, and I'm going to try to start posting regularly again! My love for Cora compels me. Also I got some SWEET MAGIC planned. I do have a whole bunch of Kid's backstory written too, but I'm going to hold onto it for a while for personal reasons, and also to see if any backstory bits or new stuff comes out of his reappearance in the manga. Hoping. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	3. Cora's collection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora builds his much longed-for Family one small, discarded gem at a time. As he tends to his strange brood of misfits, his mate cultivates power in darker ways. Cora doesn't yet see how one is playing into the other.
> 
> Warnings for graphic violence, non-major character deaths, explicit but not super graphic brother/brother incest, implied child prostitution, implied child abuse.

 

_\--Law is eight--_

 

Roci lit a smoke and took a deep, irritated drag. He blew out a long white cloud and gestured approvingly at the fiery spectacle before them.

“Well I for one feel better.”

“You maniac!” Vergo was accusing him angrily, “Insubordinate, self-righteous—!”

“Oh calm your cloaca, cormorant.”

The two Donquixote warriors watched the rich, human-style house roil in flame. Its owners ran around, clutching their Skins and wailing. Roci had no pity for them. If these assholes had shown even a shred of that grief for the child they'd left to die, Roci might not have had to set their shit on FIRE. Babygirl would approve, he thought. He patted the slumbering little bundle tucked into a sling around his neck—a beautiful, tiny blond boy.

“Donquixote will have words for you,” Vergo threatened.

“Worth it,” Roci turned and strode off.

 

* * *

 

“The parents were cooperative this time,” Vergo began his report to their captain. “They called the child a demon; said he’d chewed through the door of a cupboard he'd been shut in, and then the arm of someone who tried to put him back in. We found him in the forest where they'd left him. Alive, to their surprise—it had apparently been some months.”

“It does take more than basic neglect to kill a child of potential,” Doffy nodded, examining the bundle in Roci's arms. It bared sharp teeth and growled, and he chuckled. “And this one seems particularly tenacious.”

Vergo continued, “We retrieved him, and would have come straight back, but your _honored_ mate had us detour back to the parents’ house for his own purposes, despite my directions as mission lead.”

“Did he,” the warlord disapproved.

“Suck-up,” Roci accused Vergo.

“He _said_ he wanted to retrieve any special care items the child might require, and they of course suggested the blunt end of an axe, and so Rocinante proceeded to torch the place—”

Vergo was interrupted by Doffy bursting out laughing.

“—which goes against your instructions to keep a low profile, as well as… as well as showing a lack of basic respect for…” Vergo trailed off as their chief smiled and took Roci's hand.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Doffy questioned his mate.

“Fuck with my babies and burn,” Roci shrugged, allowing his fingers to be kissed.

“Hahaha… savage.”

“If that's everything, sir,” Vergo said flatly.

“You did well, Vergo,” Doffy dismissed him.

The dark man left the preening pair to their proud new bundle.

“As well as he could, anyway,” Roci sniffed.

Doffy laughed and enfolded his fierce mate and child in grey wings, “It’s a wonder he returned intact himself. Ah, you will raise titans, indomitable heart of mine!”

“...I don’t imagine I’ve actually gotten away with disobeying orders, though, have I,” Roci reflected.

“No indeed.”

 

* * *

 

“Law,” Roci quietly summoned the selkie, and Law was up out of his blankets instantly.

It was early dawn and the shifter siblings were only starting to stir, but Law looked like he'd been up waiting all night. Roci set the newest addition to the Family on the floor before him, and it fell over.

“Um.” Law tried to prop it up again but it didn’t seem to want to be upright. It went back to squatting on all fours, and Law frowned up at Roci. “What is it?”

“‘He,’ Law. He's a shrike, I think. He doesn't really say much.”

Roci picked the little shifter up again and examined the feather pattern on his back. This one was younger than any of the others had been when they'd come to the Keep—probably only 3 winters old. He was small and skinny, with wispy blond hair, and slightly crazed eyes. The shrike boy sucked his fingers and growled at Law. Roci put him down again, and he went right back on hands and knees.

“He thinks he's just an animal?” Law observed.

“He's a little bit feral. He'd been left to die, probably been alone most of a year.”

“What's his name?”

“I’m calling him Dellinger.”

Roci watched Law guide the crawling boy into the tower room to meet the others. They crowded around, talking all at once and poking at him, as Law tried to make them all quiet down and stop being pushy.

“He can't even talk,” Baby sniffed.

“And you can't even shut up!” Law disapproved, hands on hips.

“I can talk,” the shrike boy spoke up, and everyone went quiet.

“What's your name, then?” Bellamy challenged.

No answer.

Baby went up close, “Whaaat. Arrrre. Yooooou.”

“...Bomination.” He giggled suddenly, showing sharp teeth.

 

* * *

 

Dellinger easily slotted into place among his brothers and sisters in the following months. They were all abominations, of course, and Roci loved them for it. All these gifted, despised castoffs, scions of forgotten bloodlines and mystical birthrights. Gems lifted from dirt, for him to gather and shape into a fabulous collection.

Today, Roci had them all lined up as usual, to dress and inspect before lessons. He pursed his lips and adjusted the tied collar on Bellamy's shirt—a much smaller version of Roci's own, with voluminous white linen gathered at the neck and sleeves, and a leather jerkin. The thickset gannet boy scowled but didn’t complain.

“Why does Bellamy get a fancy shirt like that?” Buffalo whined, dressed in tanned hides. Buffalo was actually a walrus shifter, from the far northern parts of the New World. But the boy had insisted from the start that he was a buffalo, and eventually they’d just had to go with it. He also insisted that he could fly… They were still working on that one.

“He's from the old country,” Roci explained to Buffalo, once again. “This is how they dress there.”

“Can I have one?”

“No, it doesn't match your theme. Stay still until I'm done with all of you.”

Baby was next in the daily lineup—Roci's favorite to dress up. Daughters really were more fun. She preened as he examined her dark wool dress, made of two cloth pieces joined at the sides and belted with a woven sash—the fashion of the original inhabitants of the area. Little wool leggings, beaded slippers, and perfect pig tails (Law's work, of course).

“Perfection, _princesa!”_ Roci declared, and she giggled. It had taken some years, but the murre girl smiled more than cried these days.

He moved onto Law, the matching piece in the Black Coast set. Dark wool breechclout, leggings, woven belt. If only Doffy would let him grow the dark boy’s hair out long. Then he really would be a perfect little warrior doll… ah well.

“Distinguished,” he judged Law with a more serious air, and the selkie straightened proudly. “Okay, and Dellinger… you do you, buddy.”

The little shrike shifter was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing his usual mix of pieces pilfered mostly from Bellamy and Baby. Bellamy's linen shirts were like dresses on him, but Baby's shoes fit perfectly. He refused to stay in the tunic things Roci tried to put on him, and this was better than him going naked like he was perfectly happy doing, so Roci let it go. He was still a baby.

Roci gave his little collection one last look-over, and sent them down to their lessons. Knife throwing with Gladius today—nothing too grimy, fortunately.

 

* * *

 

“I want another daughter,” Roci sighed as he reclined with his mate atop their tower and watched the lessons progress.

“The wild boy seems inclined that way,” Doffy commented. “I’m sure he'll indulge your sartorial selections once he's older.”

“Why can't you find us more daughters?” Roci pressed.

“You know why. Girls presenting any aberrant qualities… They're usually either already dead or. Well.” Doffy made a dismissive gesture.

“Or…?”

“Irretrievable.”

“No one's irretrievable. Sweet Baby Girl had a rough start to life, and she's… well she's certainly found her voice,” Roci pointed out, and Doffy chuckled.

Below them, Baby was having shrill words at the rest of the group over her turn being skipped while she'd been distracted by a butterfly. No one except Law was getting near her, as sparks shot from her mouth. Young blademaster Gladius, with his face half-masked and his coarse, spiky hair pulled back all businesslike, was failing to intimidate her into silence. If it’d been one of the boys pulling this shit they would’ve already gotten hurled across the field, but she got away with it. Not because she was delicate, but because no one wanted to burst into flames.

“She does have that certain natural sparkle to her...” Doffy approved.

“An inner warmth!” Roci smiled.

“...Inspires fear so effortlessly. Utterly useless in a practical sense, of course, and yet she has our Gladius on his guard, heheheh… Charming. Simply charming.”

“And you don't want more of her?” Roci pushed.

“I am not as eager as you, it seems, to mix fire with family.”

Roci watched the long-fingered hand that was cupped around the back of his own, their fingers intertwining lazily. He was silent while he tried to come up with another argument that wasn't an objection. He knew better than to outright question Doffy's judgements.

“Mi amor…” Doffy nudged Roci's downcast face up. “Don't make that face.”

“M’ not making a face.”

“Ah, flawless heart of mine, I can't stand that look! Would another daughter satisfy you?”

“I just think a sister would make my Baby Melon Ball happier…” Roci evaded. “Improve her discipline.”

“Roci, you know you can _ask_ me anything.”

Roci's eyes flickered nervously. He looked away from the wolfish grin being directed at him. He didn't like asking for things, because it was a rule in the Family that nothing came free. He'd asked for a baby once, back when they'd first come to this island in exile from their home, and it had come at the cost of both Buffalo's parents’ lives. Doffy had explained it away, saying that the couple had attacked him when he’d come to take the child—rightfully his to claim as a mage claims proteges. But Roci knew it was a demonstration directed at himself.

He shook his head.

Doffy's grin got wider. “You know, I think I like this face on you after all.”

“Oh for god's sake,” Roci complained, trying to wipe off the despondent look.

“I think we should retire until the midday sun passes.” Doffy stood. “Take our leisure.”

“I think I'll stay out here,” Roci waved him off.

“The leisure I have in mind requires your presence, corazon.”

That was an order. Roci wordlessly got up and brushed past him.

 

* * *

 

“Mmm… Don't you have a warrior clan to run?” Roci teased as his mate toppled him onto his back and kissed him once again with fierce insistence. “You’ll get nowhere spending your exertions on me.”

“Spending my exertions _in_ you…” Doffy pressed into him again with a growl of pleasure. “...lends life to the rest. And I have reason to take more than my usual stimulation from you. I have a long night ahead.”

“...Oh?” Roci managed. “Great things planned?”

“Great things, mi amor. I wish you could see it.” Doffy sucked in an eager breath through his teeth, eyes glittering in anticipation.

“...mh… nnh…”

“Someday I may show you, when I've refined the practice of it. It's delicate, to approach that forbidden power yet remain unmarred by it. It leaves a certain hunger in the undisciplined and unwary. Makes you reliant on it. But I know how to master it, how to accomplish the slip of the sacrifice, from one's own reserves to another. The powerful—the truly powerful—draw coin to them by force of will alone, and all that comes to them is theirs to spend. It does not weaken them but only enriches and enriches…”

He slowed but didn't stop his forceful rhythm when Roci's breath hitched and he grabbed reflexively onto Doffy's arms, trying to brace against him or stop him or both.

“Aahn! It's… fuck…!”

“Your second. So eager, corazón,” Doffy gloated, still moving as Roci's pleasure ebbed away into discomfort.

“Yeah. Love me a good monologue,” Roci quipped, like he'd even heard any of it. He winced and flexed his toes. It'd been a fucking intense climax, as usual, but now his spine was starting to burn… he held onto Doffy's arm firmly, hoping his mate was feeling sympathetic. But it seemed like the warlord was working himself up, and wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

“Indulge me a while longer. Three is a lucky number,” Doffy suggested with a grin, not waiting for Roci's go-ahead to resume.

“So's two,” Roci countered mildly. But he stretched the strain out of his legs and settled into a receptive fold around the greedy force of nature on top of him.

“Are you scolding me, my heart?”

“Hah… no. Course not.”

“I don't like to feel that you're holding back from me.”

“I'm not.” Roci replied, sincerely. He put long arms around his mate's neck. “I give everything freely.”

“Mmm. And you do it so beautifully… mi corazón, my lifeblood…”

“Mi alma.”

 

* * *

 

It was a darker part of the day and a deeper part of the Keep that saw the Donquixote chief meeting with his cormorant-lieutenant, while mate, children and subordinates slept. They stood and made idle talk as a third man bled out between them. The body sprawled on the chapel floor—a recent recruit to the Donquixote Family—twitched out his dying movements under Doffy's critical eye.

Vergo stood as far back from the dead shifter as he reasonably could without betraying his discomfort. “Failed to live up to your expectations, did he?” the cormorant wondered.

His captain waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to answer. Doffy waited until all signs of life were gone from his victim, then sat back in an ancient wooden chair. It was one of the few items remaining from the little stone chapel's previous life, serving the long-dead humans who'd built this sprawling stone keep. Now the chapel's main purpose was to contain their bones, along with those of whoever the Donquixote cared to dispatch.

“I have need of your shell, recruit,” Doffy addressed the corpse. “You don't mind, do you?”

There was no answer and the albatross chuckled to himself.

“Ah, forgive me, Vergo, these dark dabblings do make me giddy.”

“I'm privileged to be privy to such greatness,” the cormorant offered tonelessly.

“You say all the right things, don't you. That and your brutal efficiency are why I value your service so very much. Look, I know what a gruesome business all this is, and I don't want you to think me perverse. It's simply that we must make use of all the tools afforded us in our pursuit of perfection.”

“You are perfection itself, my captain,” Vergo intoned without hesitation.

“Okay shut up now,” Donquixote ordered, and his subordinate did so. _“Return and join us, departed shade,”_ he directed the body, and it too had to comply.

It flipped over, and over, arms and legs dragging. After some floundering it rose like a puppet on a string to hover upright, in a poor imitation of a standing man.

“Hhh… hhhhhhh…” It made a sound like a shallow breath in a deep cave. Its mouth worked open and closed, out of step with the echoing sounds.

Doffy sighed, “Oh, don't bother trying to use your mouth anymore, just speak as you are. I can hear you fine. God, I hope you're more use than the last one. You seemed promising enough, that's why I picked you for this.”

“Hhhh… hhh’m cold…”

“I hear death is like that. But enough about you. Look around, shadow. Take a good, far look around.”

The body's unnatural movements paused for a moment while the shadow did as it was told.

 _“Now tell me what you see,”_ the warlord ordered.

“Starsss… hhhh… everything is made of stars. Brightness nearby… shining little gems in the keep, the tower—”

Doffy rolled his eyes. “Those are my children, you idiot. Ignore them. Tell me what else shines brightly to your eyes.”

It said nothing else, just gaped into the distance.

The albatross tapped a finger impatiently on the wooden arm of the chair. “Come on. Look in the sea—you must see some injured Titan. Some great cataclysm. _Tell me.”_

“HhhI see nothing.”

“Ugh. The last one at least could discern _something._ So you don't see any mystical sea giant or whatever it's supposed to be, or his ‘gifts’? No blade, no cup, no… anything? Tell me.”

It said nothing, and Donquixote rose to pace around his captive ghost. “Vergo, I'm about done with this idiot.”

Vergo advised, “He may still be able to divulge some other useful information. He's from the south, and we haven't ranged far there.”

“Hm. I suppose. _Tell me what brightness lies along your life path, shadow.”_

“The five gems in their towerhhhnnh… hhhhhnand two gems buried, along a highway.”

Doffy paused in his pacing and nodded, “That's something. Two together?”

“An infant, and a girl. Their light fading fast, shadowed by vultures, hunger, death.”

“Ah, so they’ll be damaged, and we’ll perhaps be too late...” the warlord shook his head, but then smiled strangely. “Well, Roci did seem eager for a challenge. Shadow: tell me where.”

The captured entity rasped out a location, jaw opening and closing absurdly, and then Doffy banished it again with a lazy word. The body slumped to the stone floor with a dull thud, empty.

 

* * *

 

The next retrieval mission was a fucking nightmare from the start, and Roci suspected that his request for daughters was being shown for the idiocy it was. Roci had known shit was not right when he and Vergo had approached the location divined by Doffy, and found a human encampment. Not so much a village as a collection of shacks strung along the highway. Inquiries along the way revealed that there were three unfortunates being held at the far end of the village: a mother, a girl, and a baby.

“Shifter women,” the grimy human man at the second house had muttered. “Not cheap.”

Roci's fist shot out, dropping the man with a crunch.

“Rocinante. We will make our approach with care, _as planned,”_ Vergo insisted through clenched teeth as they stepped over the lump and walked on.

“And then we will _wreck_ some _shit,”_ Roci growled back, kicking a cart aside and sending turnips rolling.

Wretched humans scattered in fear of the cloaked giant. Roci didn't quite match Doffy's sheer height, but he stood a head above even the tallest human, and Vergo wasn't far below that. News of the pair went ahead of them, and by the time they got to the furthest shack, a commotion had broken out inside.

A back door flew open and a man raced into the night, carrying a tiny, squalling bundle.

“You take that one!” Vergo ordered Roci, who was already running after him.

The doomed idiot… a human, for sure. Roci couldn't use his wings in the close quarters of the forest trail, but he could easily keep up. And the human was running toward the water and the cliffs. There was nowhere to go except…

“STOP! I'll send her over!” the man stopped at the cliff and held the baby up threateningly.

Roci kept coming. The man hesitated, then turned and hurled the bundle over the edge. Roci didn’t even slow down—he trampled the man and leapt over the cliff right after. Massive grey wings unfurled and carried him smoothly down, and he caught his prize with ease. He flapped his way back to the clifftop, set the bundle down gently, and shifted back just as the man was getting up.

“They’re both fuckin cursed, you got a world of trouble coming if y—”

Roci gave him a swift punch in the mouth that shut him up instantly. He watched the man roll around on the ground, spitting teeth, but found his anger undiminished.

“Do you hate shifters so much?” Roci demanded, “They're _children,_ you mud-sucking filth!”

“I just work for Madame Monique! It's her own business what she does with her brats. Ah, wait! N-no, wait—!”

Roci took the man's head and gave it a few quick bashes against the rocky ground until the body slumped, gurgling and twitching. With a booted toe, Roci nudged it over the edge and watched it plummet. Then he went to examine the screaming bundle.

The baby really was a baby this time. Roci almost fucking broke down at the sight if it—a tiny, pale girl, not even big enough to walk yet. She was skin and bones, eyes standing out huge through eyelids like paper, voice thin and thready. Roci nestled her into the sling around his neck and shoulder, and pulled his Skin around them both.

A massive albatross took off from the cliff and glided back toward the village. High, weak crying echoed from somewhere inside it and rang over the ragged wastes.

 

* * *

 

Two men lay dead in front of the shack, leaving two women standing on the step. And yet Vergo was hanging back. Roci watched from above as the cormorant shifter spoke to them, hands stretched out in a peaceful gesture. Strange—he normally didn't bother with formalities on retrieval missions.

“WHERE'S MY SISTER! WHERE’D YOU SEND HER,” the smaller of the two women was screeching over and over as Vergo and the older woman argued.

The girl paused as Roci landed, and her eyes grew like waxing moons. She stared at the towering blond man who stepped out of the swirl of feathers.

 _“Shifters?”_ she whispered.

The issue became immediately clear: The older woman had a knife jammed against the neck of the younger, and was refusing to give her up to Vergo. This must be ‘Madame Monique’—mother of the gifted pair that Roci and Vergo had come to retrieve. It seemed that the raw-boned woman was not prisoner, but proprietor of this hellhole.

Roci held his hands up too, and addressed the daughter. “I have your sister right here, sweet one. She's sleeping. I'll keep her safe.”

“You can have _that_ cursed thing,” the Madame spat. She was a wretched woman—sour-faced, and dressed in rich clothing that was unbelievably filthy.

“NO!” the daughter screamed. “That's MY SISTER!”

“We've come for both, and we will leave with both together,” insisted Vergo. “They will be welcomed as family, cared for, trained by fine fighters. They will become strong and proud—”

“I don't care, this one must work! She must earn back what I have wasted on them.” The Madame gripped her daughter’s hair tighter.

Roci held the eyes of the young girl, “It's okay, princess. Just look at me, it'll be okay.”

 _“Maman,_ I want to go. _Please,”_ the girl begged.

Her mother scolded, “You will leave me in poverty, ungrateful girl!”

Vergo was unfazed by the pitiful scene. He continued in an even tone, “We can compensate you for the loss.”

That got the woman's attention. She squinted at Vergo. “How much.”

“What is it you want?”

“Rum,” the Madame demanded. “Grain. And human coins.”

“We _do not_ deal in human monies,” Vergo objected.

The girl was quiet while the exchange went on, but her eyes started to well with tears as her price was debated back and forth.

Vergo made his offer: “Two cases of rum, two winters of grain, and of course the…”

“...Two cases of rum…” the girl murmured in disbelief, hugging herself, and Roci had to physically stop himself from going to comfort her.

Vergo finally paused and addressed the girl directly. “This is simply the way of it, Donquixote daughter-to-be. Everything has a price.”

She just shook her head and cried.

“And maybe this price is not good enough,” the Madame whined. “I think I rather kill her than let myself be robbed—”

Vergo rumbled over top of her, “NO. You will treat with us. And the price is as I said: Rum, grain, cloth.”

“Rum, grain, COINS!”

 _“Or…”_ Roci knelt down so he was at the girl's height, as the other two haggled away over their heads. He whispered to her, “Or _one_ life.”

The girl looked at him, then up at her mother. The sunken-cheeked woman was distracted with her greed, a petulant sneer etched on her face. That expression barely even flickered as the knife was lifted from her hand and pulled across her neck.

Madame Monique faltered and put her hands to her throat. “Wh...hckkkt??”

It had been a hesitant cut—not deep enough. The girl startled and panicked, then started stabbing away at her mother's neck, face, raised hands… until Vergo scooped the skinny little thing up and turned them away from the bloody scene. The girl fought him for a moment, still in the grip of her panic, then slumped in his arms.

“Or, I suppose, that,” Vergo grumbled to Roci.

“An appropriate price,” the albatross commented darkly, still watching the woman bleed out.

“Indeed. Let’s return.”

“In a moment,” Roci took out a smoke and a light.

 

* * *

 

“It does brighten a cold night,” Vergo admitted, watching the flaming wreckage of the shack collapse in on itself.

“Told you so.”

The girl stood between them, holding tightly onto the baby and watching the flames. She was wavering on her feet, clearly exhausted.

Roci nudged her and held out his hands for the baby. She gave it up nervously, and he reassured her, “Sweet one, you have a new home waiting. I’ll take the tiny one in my Skin and Vergo will take you in his. We—”

“I'm not a sweet anything,” the girl interrupted. “And I'm not a baby. I can fly by myself.”

Vergo snorted, but turned away with an amused expression. “I will inform Donquixote that his stork approaches.” He shifted and went ahead to scout their path.

“Hm.” Roci didn't argue with the fierce little girl. “What should we call you then.”

“Monet.”

“And this one?” He indicated the baby sister.

“Well… Maman—uh, Madame didn't ever give her a name,” Monet mumbled.

“I'll think of something.” Roci was good at names.

He took the girls away from that place, and his collection was complete.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So looks like an update every two months is about my speed now... I'm trying to do an actual thing though! Infrequent updates mean I'm doing! the thing! Slowly, slowly. 
> 
> I don't remember Monet ever getting a backstory but I think she deserves one. I think she's a cold, bad bitch.


End file.
